“What is it about?”
“Keeping you alive.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“It isn’t.”
Before I can ask him to explain, he opens his door and disappears inside.
I stare at the empty hallway.
The man is impossible.
Closed off, controlling, infuriatingly calm—and carrying my brother’s dog tags next to his heart.
I enter Room Five and close the door.
It’s small but comfortable, with a wooden dresser, an iron bed, and a quilt that looks handmade. Someone left a vase of wildflowers on the nightstand. Knowing Nora, they were probably cut from the garden behind the tavern.
I set Grant’s journal on the dresser.
The sight of it makes sleep impossible.
I remove my holster, place my weapon on the nightstand, and sit on the edge of the bed. Every muscle hurts from being thrown to the floor twice in one day.
A soft knock sounds at the door.
I reach for my weapon.
“Mara.”
Doc.
I open the door but leave the chain fastened.
He looks at it.
“Really?”
“I’ve known you for less than three hours.”
“You opened the door.”
“I also have a gun.”
His gaze moves past me to the nightstand.
“Good.”
“What do you want?”
He holds out a folded piece of paper.
“We found this inside the metal case.”
I don’t take it.
“You didn’t know it was there?”